A Blaze Of Glory
by Triskell
Summary: RENT story... song-fic. It's intense, contains dark themes, violence and allusions to slash


Author: Triskell (ferngully_at@yahoo.com)

Title: A Blaze Of Glory

Rating: R

AN: I've been victimized, yet again, by the evil plot bunnies that rule song-fic. *winks* Meaning - I heard this song on the radio driving home and I couldn't get it out of my head. 

WARNING: contains character death (suicide). Additional notes (and complete lyrics) are at the end of the story.

A BLAZE OF GLORY

(c) Triskell, November 11, 2002

* I wake up in the morning

* And I raise my weary head

* I've got an old coat for a pillow

* And the earth was last night's bed

I can't believe it's me, not anymore. I slept in Central Park, between an old man and a junkie and I didn't even ask myself how I'd gotten there. I do now, but that's inconsequential, cause I know I'll end up in the same place tomorrow. Probably with different sources of heat, I seem to the be the only one who actually always ends up in the same spot for the night.

Creature of habit? Perhaps. I've stopped caring a while ago. I still have the coat he wore with me, I wear it most of the time, wrap myself up in it at night. If someone wants to take it, he's got to kill me first. Quite literally, no dramatics, I'm serious. Deadly serious. A formerly red-and-white knitted scarf for a pillow - memories that are so dear to me and yet so far out of reach. I miss him. I miss myself, being someone when he was near. It's been a while. Or so they all say, would say, if they knew where to find me. They'd take me home with them, like a little dog, try to make me feel better. But nothing can ever make me feel better again. 

He took so much more than his talent with him, when he left. That fucking son-of-a-bitch that took him down will pay. I swore it. The sun was setting over the small cemetery in Scarsdale. Blood-red. The perfect setting for a film. The place we had met was where I said my last good-bye. And left all that others thought I was or could be behind. I'm alone now, a lone ranger, searching for a villain. Pathetically chasing windmills, ghosts, a past he has lost. But I'll find it all again, the day I pull the trigger. Because I will. Never mind them all thinking I wouldn't, that I could never go that far, for all the stupid stuff I've already proven I'm capable of.

* I don't know where I'm going

* Only God knows where I've been

* I'm a devil on the run

* A six gun lover

* A candle in the wind

I know he wouldn't want to see me like this, he wouldn't want me to kill a man for him. But I will. I've lost more than anyone can fathom. Love drives you crazy they say. Perhaps it's true. No, not perhaps, it *is* true. I should know. I do know. I've already left the safe path, the accepted one. Being a bohemian artist doesn't mean you're an outcast. Not necessarily. What I've done leaves you alone, hunted, and despised. I've no more choices to make. No more things to say, and only one single thing left to do. And then I'll snuff myself out, a candle in the wind.

Ironic how a song for Marilyn Monroe so easily fits me, like a glove made to measure. It would intrigue me if I had some strength left to be interested. But I'm too focused now, too much in love with death. I adored life. His life, him. Each breath he took, each smile he gave me. He'll never touch me again. Quoth the raven: Nevermore. I always hated that poem. Perhaps I'd already realised how the truth of it could hurt. I don't see ghosts, but memories remain. To taunt, and haunt, and hurt me. To drive sleep from my thoughts and drive me to my goal.

The city is huge, they say. But not even the big apple can hide the murderer from me. A knife - something so simple. But there's deadly precision in a knife to your heart. It hurts for a moment, they say, and then it's over. If you get it right. He did. And my heart broke, my world shattered, and my lover died.

* When you're brought into this world

* They say you're born in sin

* Well at least they gave me something

* I didn't have to steal or have to win

I didn't really believe in love. Or friendship, or all that shit. I thought it was like the fairy tales you tell little kids - "your prince will come one day and then you'll live happily ever after". I hated them. Even when I was barely old enough to hold the book in my hands and look at the pictures, it didn't seem real to me. They said I was clever. It changed when I went to school. No, I wasn't an A student. Sorry. There are more exciting things than books. Music, words, images, people. I wanted to see them, hear them, feel them all. I never succeeded. Until the day he kissed me.

My world narrowed, centred on him, yet my horizons were never wider than when I was in his arms. I slept with his heartbeat in my ear, and I knew safety, belonging, and home. Perhaps I was too happy for it all to last. I mean, hey, I managed to live before we became lovers, didn't I? Thirty-two fucking lonely years. I was straight, narrow-minded, and scared. Now I'm thirty-six, gay, and scared again. Nice summary, ain't it?

Being his friend made me special, even in school. We were so different and so much alike it was almost weird. As if we'd been meant for each other. Sometimes I wished he weren't a guy. Until I realised that conventions didn't matter. We moved to New York together, to merrily fall apart. And when we'd reached the bottom with a thump, we fell in love. Cheesy as it sounds - I saw my first sunrise in the big apple when he held me in his arms after that first time we kissed. Standing at the window of the loft, only us, nothing but us in the world. 

* Well they tell me that I'm wanted

* Yeah, I'm a wanted man

* I'm colt in your stable

* I'm what Cain was to Abel

* Mister catch me if you can

I needn't have hit that policeman over the head. But if I hadn't, I wouldn't have a gun. I'm not violent, I only want to kill one single person. Still, no one had better stand in my way till I find him. I guess I'm crazy, sort of. Every fucking officer in this town will be looking for me. Assaulting one of their ranks and all that shit. Yeah, right. They won't find me. Too many junkies and homeless in this great, grey wasteland to home in on one miserable would-be-avenger. 

* I'm going down in a blaze of glory

* Take me now but know the truth

* I'm going out in a blaze of glory

Glory is such a beautiful word. I always craved it. So did he, though I suppose he showed it differently. Passion and determination. They can be pretty much the same thing, at least they were in our case. I guess I'll be infamous in Avenue B now - the guy who suddenly freaked out over the death of his roommate. Most people never knew we were together. Our best friends didn't know. It's better this way. If they'd known, they might have imagined I'd lose it. And they might have tried to stop me. 

And I can't allow anyone to stop me. I'll pull the trigger and forget I ever lived, I'll see the bastard's eyes when I kill him. And then I'll have peace. For one single, brilliant moment I'll know absolute content again. Cause I've changed the world. I've taken one of those lives that shouldn't ever have come to be. Screw my conscience. I'll lose it on the way.

* You ask about my conscience

* And I offer you my soul

* You ask if I'll grow to be a wise man

* Well I ask if I'll grow old

Standing at his grave I realised that my sole reason for life lay there, in the ground before me. I couldn't imagine being without him anymore. I've known him since I was seven. Kinda hard to suddenly let go. A life-time is pretty hard to wipe away. There's that French song about regretting nothing... I've never understood it all, even though he translated it for me. Yes, he spoke French. Not very well, but well enough to tell me what the words meant. "Because my life, because my joys, today they begin with you." 

I'd have stayed with him to the end. I was prepared for everything. But not for a street brawl. Not for his dying just like this - an old acquaintance stopping him on the way to the store, demanding money. For what, I'll never know. He said 'no'. Four minutes later, he was dead. I think I felt it. Another cheesy thing to say. But how else would you explain a sting in my chest? One that became a burn and, which I found out later, started when he closed his eyes for the last time. Perhaps I'm really crazy. It's not like I could just love him like this and keep my sanity. I might have loved him too much. 

But I don't regret it.

* You ask me if I've known love

* And what it's like to sing songs in the rain

* Well, I've seen love come

* And I've seen it show down

* I've seen it die in vain

There aren't words to describe what I felt when I was told he wouldn't return. There are only images. Sometimes silence is all you hear when you grieve. Suddenly there's no more traffic, no more noise, just you and your memories. I've known the deepest, most fulfilling friendship, and felt the all-consuming love others are constantly dreaming of. I won't forget him. But in these past weeks, roaming the city, looking for 'the man', my target, my kill, his face has blurred. It is no longer as clear as it once was, a little less defined. I want to remember. I need to. And I'm losing my grip on him, and somehow, reality is fading with him.

* Each night I go to bed

* I pray the Lord my soul to keep

* No I ain't looking for forgiveness

* But before I'm six foot deep

* Lord, I got to ask a favor

* And I hope you'll understand

Another hapless day, waiting at street corners, following the junkies, seeking, lying in wait. I may seem like a lion on the prowl, though I have neither the strength nor the power to fight. I've got a gun in my pocket, my finger on the trigger. If I pull it, my aim will be steady. Now my hand's shaking.

* 'Cause I've lived life to the fullest

* Let this boy die like a man

* Staring down a bullet

* Let me make my final stand

I'll go to my place in the park, where I always go. There's another junkie, at yet another street corner. I walk towards her, she looks like Mimi. Almost. Too young to be there, too young to wait for a dealer. But she wouldn't listen to reason, love can heal every wound, no one loves her. If someone did, she wouldn't be standing there, rubbing her hands, freezing. Did I ever dream that my love wouldn't be enough? I always thought I could pull him through everything. That I'd die protecting him, not that I'd lose him in a moment.

It was 'the man'. I would know that walk anywhere. I've trailed him before, other things on my mind, always love in my heart. My chest hurts. It's tight. My hand shakes. My finger's on the trigger. He walks past me, he doesn't see me, never has. I'm inconsequential to the likes of him. I'm scared. Fuck him. He broke my life, destroyed my heart.

* Lord I never drew first

* But I drew first blood

My finger's on the trigger. My hand is steady. He doesn't see me. Never will. My finger's moving. One inch. I didn't think it was so loud. Maybe it just never was this still before. He falls. I know where the heart is. I stand behind him. Close range. The girl at the street corner looks up. Her eyes are unfocused, she's crying. She doesn't understand. She'll be going through his pockets when I turn my back.

My hand shakes, my finger's on the trigger. There's a dark spot on his coat, deceptively small. It widens a little as I look. Let him bleed.

* And I'm no one's son

* Call me young gun

* I'm a young gun

There's a letter in my pocket, written before I set out. The day I lost him. Just after the funeral I sat down in my parents' house, writing it. "I love you Mum. I'm sorry Dad, disappointed you yet again. Don't hate me. I'm not asking you to understand." I should have written to my friends too. I don't think it'll matter, they couldn't see it, and I can't make them look at the world as I see it now.

All is focused, all is clear. One moment of feeling nothing. But I wasn't content. Nausea sets in. I know what I did. But I'm not done yet. Not yet. There are no sirens. Police was never fast to come to the dealers. They weren't fast enough to save him either - but they showed me the knife. I knew it. It was the man's. I've seen it. I had a right. I had *the* right. I'm right.

My finger's on the trigger, my hand is shaking. But not enough to dislodge the gun from my mouth. Almost obscene. I close my eyes. My finger's on the trigger, Roger's image in my head. My finger's on the trigger...

* Shot down in a blaze of glory

* Take me now but know the truth

* I'm going down in a blaze of glory

Finis.

I found the lyrics at: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/j/jon-bon-jovi/66386.htm and intend no copyright infringement by their use. Other songs or sayings that I use are not 

used with express permission, still I don't mean to infringe on their owners' copyright.

Blaze of Glory (Jon Bon Jovi)

I wake up in the morning

And I raise my weary head

I've got an old coat for a pillow

And the earth was last night's bed

I don't know where I'm going

Only God knows where I've been

I'm a devil on the run

A six gun lover

A candle in the wind

When you're brought into this world

They say you're born in sin

Well at least they gave me something

I didn't have to steal or have to win

Well they tell me that I'm wanted

Yeah, I'm a wanted man

I'm colt in your stable

I'm what Cain was to Abel

Mister catch me if you can

I'm going down in a blaze of glory

Take me now but know the truth

I'm going out in a blaze of glory

Lord I never drew first

But I drew first blood

I'm no one's son

Call me young gun

You ask about my conscience

And I offer you my soul

You ask if I'll grow to be a wise man

Well I ask if I'll grow old

You ask me if I've known love

And what it's like to sing songs in the rain

Well, I've seen love come

And I've seen it show down

I've seen it die in vain

Shot down in a blaze of glory

Take me now but know the truth

'Cause I'm going down in a blaze of glory

Lord I never drew first

But I drew first blood

I'm the devil's son

Call me young gun

Each night I go to bed

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

No I ain't looking for forgiveness

But before I'm six foot deep

Lord, I got to ask a favor

And I hope you'll understand

'Cause I've lived life to the fullest

Let this boy die like a man

Staring down a bullet

Let me make my final stand

Shot down in a blaze of glory

Take me now but know the truth

I'm going down in a blaze of glory

Lord I never drew first

But I drew first blood

and I'm no one's son

Call me young gun

I'm a young gun


End file.
